Russian Novelists and Oprah Winfrey
I have been blog-free for what, a whole day? And now here I am, indulging the inner addictive me.
I was in a very quiet library previously (shh!!!) and decided I was unable to blog there. Thus I am back at my friend's apartment (this one in MD, as I have escaped VA and am now back with my good friends here) and am again enjoying the joys of laptop computers. Part of the problem was that the library was housed in a somewhat religious establishment, and I felt like my irreverence would seep through the air, somehow branding me visibly with a giant scarlet letter A. A, for Asinine. Which is probably what these blogs all amount to, but hey, maybe I'm entertaining someone (one person, anyway, God bless 'em).
I read this morning about George Bush's latest nominee to the supreme court. Now the fucker is pissing off his OWN party. OK, he's not a fucker, he's a wanker. Shh, was that a knock on the door? The Feds are coming! The Feds are coming! And the IRS is right behind them. Anyway, I lived in a very liberal town for almost six years, the kind that basically spray-painted signs like "Impeach Bush" everywhere, so no doubt it affected the neurons in my brain, the blood in my veins, you get the picture. As much as I strive for complete objectivity, my knee-jerk passionate tendencies come out anyway, and as we all know, Dr. Freud, no one is wholly objective. Human beings are chock full of many things, but utterly rational behavior ain't one of them.
But politics has been done to death, much like green vegetables on your dinner plate in the Southland, so let's move on, my children. I must say I adore food, enough that I keep a more or less daily walking regimen as part of my feeble attempts to discipline myself. My friends are fabulous cooks and do a lot of Middle Eastern stuff, as one of them is from that mysterious and exotic region, so I get to not only eat well but enjoy it, too. I gotta say babaganoush (sp) is delicious! Especially on little pieces of bread. And so is this spinach phyllo thing they made, and this fiendlishly lovely kind of rice, and on and on and on. Plus they have two kinds of pie. They had three, but now it's down to two, but since one of them is blueberry, I ain't complaining!
Burp.
And now for one of my other favorite topics (see any themes emerging here, yet?): celebrity watching! At least I'm not a stalker. Anyway, I read today online that Katie Holmes is going to have Tom Cruise's love child. This is mildly alarming, considering that Scientologists are legitimized whack-jobs, but I'm still somehow happy for them. They both seem like decent folks, and in any event, without the millions, fancy cars, publicists, and lavish estates they'd be just like you and me! Yes, the rich are eccentric, the poor crazy, but money, as my beloved Dolly Parton says, can't make you happy. But it can make you comfortable if you're smart enough to be happy. Or something like that.
For a great read, I definitely recommend her autobiography Dolly. It will cheer you up on even the rainiest day outside or in your soul. Ms. Parton is one amazing lady, and her voice is heaven-sent IMHO.
The crickets are chirping outside. I'm on a screened-in porch, listening to the frustrated sighs of my friend studying. It's dark out there: this part of MD ain't into providing its inhabitants with streetlamps. Earlier I took a walk and studiously attempted to move my leaden body, but I'm too damned fatigued to feel anything at all. Comfortably Numb is right, Mr. Pink Floyd. I return home on Saturday to stay with my erstwhile barrister brother and his wife and to hopefully get stabilized once more. It's been a long time coming. I also hope to get some quality time in with my book. It's harder to write when you're borrowing other people's computers, but writing keeps me balanced better than anything. That, and writing songs, but lately, it's just been writing. And oh yeah, pretending I am the host of talk shows. Hey, whatever works!
I actually have started to read Crime and Punishment and felt myself relating to it. God, it's depressing when you relate to depressed Russian novelists and their works. This time I'm going to try and finish it, because I think it needs to become a part of my literary soul. Or heart.
And if Oprah endorses it on her Book Club, all the better, right?
Sleep tight, my lovelies.
I was in a very quiet library previously (shh!!!) and decided I was unable to blog there. Thus I am back at my friend's apartment (this one in MD, as I have escaped VA and am now back with my good friends here) and am again enjoying the joys of laptop computers. Part of the problem was that the library was housed in a somewhat religious establishment, and I felt like my irreverence would seep through the air, somehow branding me visibly with a giant scarlet letter A. A, for Asinine. Which is probably what these blogs all amount to, but hey, maybe I'm entertaining someone (one person, anyway, God bless 'em).
I read this morning about George Bush's latest nominee to the supreme court. Now the fucker is pissing off his OWN party. OK, he's not a fucker, he's a wanker. Shh, was that a knock on the door? The Feds are coming! The Feds are coming! And the IRS is right behind them. Anyway, I lived in a very liberal town for almost six years, the kind that basically spray-painted signs like "Impeach Bush" everywhere, so no doubt it affected the neurons in my brain, the blood in my veins, you get the picture. As much as I strive for complete objectivity, my knee-jerk passionate tendencies come out anyway, and as we all know, Dr. Freud, no one is wholly objective. Human beings are chock full of many things, but utterly rational behavior ain't one of them.
But politics has been done to death, much like green vegetables on your dinner plate in the Southland, so let's move on, my children. I must say I adore food, enough that I keep a more or less daily walking regimen as part of my feeble attempts to discipline myself. My friends are fabulous cooks and do a lot of Middle Eastern stuff, as one of them is from that mysterious and exotic region, so I get to not only eat well but enjoy it, too. I gotta say babaganoush (sp) is delicious! Especially on little pieces of bread. And so is this spinach phyllo thing they made, and this fiendlishly lovely kind of rice, and on and on and on. Plus they have two kinds of pie. They had three, but now it's down to two, but since one of them is blueberry, I ain't complaining!
Burp.
And now for one of my other favorite topics (see any themes emerging here, yet?): celebrity watching! At least I'm not a stalker. Anyway, I read today online that Katie Holmes is going to have Tom Cruise's love child. This is mildly alarming, considering that Scientologists are legitimized whack-jobs, but I'm still somehow happy for them. They both seem like decent folks, and in any event, without the millions, fancy cars, publicists, and lavish estates they'd be just like you and me! Yes, the rich are eccentric, the poor crazy, but money, as my beloved Dolly Parton says, can't make you happy. But it can make you comfortable if you're smart enough to be happy. Or something like that.
For a great read, I definitely recommend her autobiography Dolly. It will cheer you up on even the rainiest day outside or in your soul. Ms. Parton is one amazing lady, and her voice is heaven-sent IMHO.
The crickets are chirping outside. I'm on a screened-in porch, listening to the frustrated sighs of my friend studying. It's dark out there: this part of MD ain't into providing its inhabitants with streetlamps. Earlier I took a walk and studiously attempted to move my leaden body, but I'm too damned fatigued to feel anything at all. Comfortably Numb is right, Mr. Pink Floyd. I return home on Saturday to stay with my erstwhile barrister brother and his wife and to hopefully get stabilized once more. It's been a long time coming. I also hope to get some quality time in with my book. It's harder to write when you're borrowing other people's computers, but writing keeps me balanced better than anything. That, and writing songs, but lately, it's just been writing. And oh yeah, pretending I am the host of talk shows. Hey, whatever works!
I actually have started to read Crime and Punishment and felt myself relating to it. God, it's depressing when you relate to depressed Russian novelists and their works. This time I'm going to try and finish it, because I think it needs to become a part of my literary soul. Or heart.
And if Oprah endorses it on her Book Club, all the better, right?
Sleep tight, my lovelies.
posted by lakeofthelongsun72 at 2:42 PM
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